Mine Own Self

Dear You,

Over the last 48 hours, something has been bothering me.

I had a conversation with someone recently, and the idea that I am a deeply unhappy individual was put forth for consideration. Well... maybe not simply "put forth for consideration." Maybe more like "the person to whom I was speaking tried to shove this opinion down my throat and I subsequently choked on it."

I am still not entirely sure what I did or said to lead him to this conclusion, other than maybe the fact that I told him outright that his apparent lack of ability to make sense was making me feel annoyed. (I mean really... this is the same guy who sent me a text that said "Oi" in excess of 45 times within 5 minutes. I counted them. You'd get annoyed too.) He also went so far as to call me a liar (he said I "exaggerated the truth," which is the same thing, in my mind), and to say that I needed to seek mental help for my issues (apparently this person is also under the impression that I have a deep-seated and heavily suppressed anger-management issue, on top of everything else).

I have no idea what brought on this kind of abuse. The more times I tried to tell him he was wrong, the harder he pushed, and the louder he claimed he was right.

But he's not right. Not in the least.

If you've been reading this webpage for a while, you know I've taken a lot of time to examine my past experiences, and to look at my life as it is, and I've learned a lot about myself. I fail to understand how someone who barely knows me can insinuate that I'm so bitterly unhappy. Or how this individual can just up and decide that I "tolerate" my friends, but "don't really like them." Or how he could say that I am making up the activities in my life that I do on a daily/weekly basis because I am "bored with how [my] life really is."

If you have ever met me and taken more than 15 minutes to talk to me, you will know the following:

- I adore my friends. All of them. If I have called you my friend, it is because I love you to pieces, and I don't just tolerate you. I am blessed to have you in my life, and I would not change one hair on your head. I understand how fortunate I am to have people like you in my life, who care about me, and who want the best for me, and I in no way take you for granted. I appreciate you for who you are, as you are, every second of every day, whether I am speaking to you directly or not.

- I genuinely like my life, as it is. I mean sure, I'm not always thrilled that I'm single. Who is? I sometimes hate the little pang of jealousy I feel when I see couples kissing in public. Of course I wish I had that, but at the same time, I'm not dying without it. But I know that all good things come to those who wait. I am picky, and I know that I deserve the best, so why push it? I'm not unhappy being alone, because I know I'm not actually alone. I have amazing friends and a wonderful family to rely on and to keep me company, and I'm also very much comfortable being on my own without being lonely.

- I am an extremely busy girl. I start school in less than a week, I am in charge of organizing a book club, I take art lessons, I spend time with my friends and family... it is a very rare day that goes by where I am not doing something at some point through the day. I don't mind it that way. It can be a little hectic from time to time, but I like keeping busy and engaged. At least I can never say I'm bored! And as far as whether or not I am "exaggerating" or fabricating these aspects of my life, I can provide anyone with the contact information of individuals other than myself who can, in fact, corroborate my story. Which brings me to my next point...

- I can't stand liars. More than that, I can't stand being called a liar. I have high expectations not only for myself, but also for the people I choose to surround myself with. I expect that everyone around me will do his/her best to tell me the honest truth, just as I will do the same for them. I have been lied to by both men and women alike, in my life, and I can honestly say that I would rather not be hurt in that way again. I also feel that if I expect others to behave in a certain way towards me, that I had better behave in the same way toward them. I feel like that just makes sense.

- I certainly do not need mental help or therapy of any description. I did the therapy thing for a while in university, because I felt at that point like things were piling up and I was maybe losing myself in all of it. I do not feel out of control. I do not have any anger or rage issues... except maybe that it is extremely difficult to make me angry. I suppose if we're really going to play "hunt the mental issue," the fact that I so rarely get upset could conceivably be an issue. I do have a tendency toward the dramatic on those special and rare occasions when I do get upset (for instance, through the conversation we are currently discussing, I told my aggressor that I would "knock all of his teeth down his throat... individually" if he didn't stop calling me a liar), but this is only ever a statement out of pure anger, and is never something I would actually follow through on.

I have discussed the idea that I might be a deeply unhappy person with a few of my close friends. Three, to be precise... the first laughed outwardly at the suggestion, and asked if the individual making these remarks had ever even met me. The second simply said "No, but you can be a little bit cynical sometimes." The third, who is also my room mate, looked utterly confused said "That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard... Where do you find these people?!"

I would tend to agree with all of these assessments. I'm not unhappy at my core. I do get cynical now and again, but it's (as my friend put it) just "burning out from caring about people too much." This is true. I care about the people in my life a great deal, and it does sometimes become emotionally wearing, or even frustrating. This emotional tiredness and frustration does sometimes lead me to unhappy moments, but I would not go so far as to say that I am an unhappy person, overall.

I think, having discussed this with you now, that the person who has suggested this concept to me needs to take some time and be in my life a little more actively to get an idea of who I actually am. It is blatantly obvious that he does not know my true self in the least. With that said, I believe that it is grossly unfair to make generalizations about my personality without having a clue who I am.

He said not to contact him until I was ready to accept what he said and make some personality changes.  This is not going to happen... I have spent the last 26 years getting to know who I am, and I think as a result that I know myself far better than anyone else on the planet. I know myself, and as a result, I can never accept what he said as being anything near to the truth.

Good riddance to bad rubbish then, wouldn't you say?

Happily yours,

- A.

Drama-Dary

Dear You,

You know... I thought we had passed the immature kinds of dramatic activities that took place in high school. I mean... I'm 26. Most of my friends are my age, and a handful are older than I am. I don't find I am able to be friends very successfully with people who are younger than me, simply based on the fact that their maturity level often doesn't match my own. (Please don't be insulted by that. I'm just saying.)

Unfortunately, the people I choose to associate with sometimes seem to know people who are not necessarily as cool and drama-free as I like my life to be. Unfortunately, there are still some adults in the world who do not know what it means to have class, tact and decency. They find themselves lacking in these areas when they are sober. With the addition of alcohol, any beginnings of a grip on how to handle themselves in an adult manner that they may have initially had are gone, and they are subsequently reduced to mere apes.

What I am speaking of, directly, is a rather long story. I have this friend (again with the friends, I know...), we'll call him Jacob, just for arguments' sake. Obviously this is not his actual name.

Jacob is one of the best friends I have right now. A while back... say a month or so ago now, he got himself involved with this girl... Amanda (not her name). The day before Jacob fell into Amanda's trap, her husband left her. Amanda also has a relatively young daughter. Obviously a reasonable mind can see that this woman is making a horrible mistake already, and that our dear friend Jacob is walking into a really large rebound thing here. He missed it. No big deal.

So, time goes on, and the relationship between Jacob and Amanda heads toward the sewers. He attempts to break things off, and she goes bat-crap crazy, basically. Starts spreading her negativity to their mutual friends. Sends relentless and rude text messages at all hours of the day and night.

He eventually makes a smart decision, and cuts contact with not just Amanda, but also their mutual friends, who appear to have taken Amanda's "side" in the mess. You see, these people, being the drama-queens that they are, decided it would be appropriate to give my friend attitude about his decision. Obviously this is not an appropriate reaction at all, particularly not for two people who are so near the 30-year age mark.

This all passed, and Jacob's life went back to being quiet and peaceful. He and I resumed spending time together, which we had not been able to do while he was seeing Amanda (she felt somehow threatened by my friendship with Jacob, and he decided as a result that it would be best to keep his distance from me. No big deal.). Things went back to normal, basically.

Until tonight.

Tonight, Jacob and I did what we always do. He picked me up from home, and we drove to a coffee shop, picked up a coffee each, and found a quiet spot to chat and just hang out (Keep your minds out of the gutter -- everybody's pants stayed on). We were having a good night, and came back to my place early, because I am babysitting my roommate's dog for the evening, and who should we drive by on the way in to my apartment than Jacob's old friends. They noticed us. I still had to walk the dog, so I went inside and got her, while Jacob stayed outside. He told me when I got back outside to where he was in the parking lot that a group of people from the party his friends were at had walked to the entrance of my parking lot and looked at his car, and then walked away without saying anything.

We went on and walked the dog as normal, but on the way back, we crossed paths with the same group. Unfortunately, this is where their collective lack of tact comes into play. Instead of civilly saying "Hello" and moving on, and allowing us to move on, they instead chose to shout at Jason while we walked by. Frankly I am more upset that they upset my friend, and embarrassed for them over their behaviour than I am upset for my own sake (Let's not think for one second that I wasn't dragged into it just as a result of being there at that moment). Jason took his opportunity and went home, at this point. Neither of us said a word back to the group, we just kept walking. It is, as you know, the adult thing to do, to ignore the cat-calls and taunts of the juvenile.

I know that both I and my friend are far better people than his ex-friends are. I just wonder if anything can be done to make these specific individuals understand that what they do and what they say only looks poorly on them? Why do people still choose to behave like children, when they are actually adults? Is it a question of the influence of alcohol, or are they actually just that ignorant?

Suffice it to say that if this ever happens to you, always take the high road. Never respond, just keep walking. Responding only opens an invitation to your aggressor(s) to make matters worse. By walking on and ignoring the words, you simply leave him/her/them standing in the road, shouting like a lunatic... and boy, do they ever look silly when you do that.

Yours in exasperation,

- A.

Dancing With Myself

Dear You,

Okay, so I know I’ve already expounded for a while about the fact that I’m good with the fact that I spend a lot of time on my own (see post here if you don’t know what I’m talking about), but I feel like I need to spout on for a few more moments. You see, I did a great job explaining that I am good on my own, but I feel like my reason why was a bit lacking.

I feel like, as an individual, it’s important to be your own best friend. Not in the sense that your best friend is the person you tell all your secrets to, but in the sense that you love spending time just on your own. To me, it’s important to actually enjoy spending time alone. It’s important to be able to be alone without freaking out. Can you say that about yourself? Don’t get weird about it if you can’t. You’re not alone. 

Hell, I used to feel a little weird if I wasn’t constantly in contact with someone, anyone! I’m pretty sure everyone goes through that state of mind at some point in their lives. For me, it was about growing self-confidence, and cultivating a kind of love for myself that had been lacking for a long time.

I get the feeling this is going to be a long letter. Try not to fall asleep, okay?

So, here’s a long story:

I was pretty happy as a child, I think. For what I can remember, everything was pretty straightforward, and life was pretty fun until the year I turned 8. Everyone in my grade got along... until the year I turned 8. Third grade. In third grade, a couple of the girls figured out that they could be mean to other girls and, for the most part, they could get away with it. It was pretty harmless at that point, but the degree to which these girls were mean to others increased as years went on. By the time we reached the seventh grade, I had developed a pretty crazy social anxiety disorder. I hesitated to leave home, because I knew what to expect -- social torture. 

Back-track as to why this happened, why I became a target. Let’s look at third-through-eighth grade me and see where the points for picking-on came out: 

• I was taller than almost everyone in my grade. I grew fast. “Like a weed,” as my grandmother would say.
• I was big into books, and smarter than a lot of the other kids as a result. I kid you not, I was reading classic literature (Poe, Austen, Woolstonecraft-Shelley, Stoker, etc.) by the fifth grade. 
• Suffice it to say I “Developed” at a higher rate of speed than 90% of the girls in my grade.
• I was not a big sports fan. See the bookworm point.
• I was not allowed to watch anything that was rated beyond PG. Ever.
• I was not dressed in the “latest” 1990’s fashions. My parents couldn’t afford it. I had hand-me-downs from neighbours, and shopped at second-hand and thrift stores, instead of at the mall... this also meant that I got to choose my own clothes and decide what was cool for myself. I developed an individual sense of style very quickly.
• Adults generally liked me... including most of the parents of the kids who were making my life miserable.

Fast-forward back to the point where I developed the social anxiety problem. I figured out how to fly under the radar -- stay home. Don’t go out. 

I had exactly one all-the-time friend through elementary school. I had a couple of other girls who would be my friend after school and on weekends. I can’t blame them for watching their own asses and not making any moves that looked friendly toward me while we were in school. It’s self-preservation. Survival of the fittest. I can’t believe I’m using Darwinist terminology while talking about schoolchildren, but it’s all that fits at the moment. Jesus.

Anyway, Jenny (name changed), would go with me to regional school dances (basically, kids from 3-5 different schools in the area, including my own, would all meet up in one location and participate in a dance. In England, I believe they call this a “Disco.” That’s a much better phrase.). Jenny was not only my friend in this case, but also my guard dog, my personal support worker, my matchmaker, and, in a couple of very awkward instances, a human shield. We had insults hurled at us (Jenny had a similar problem at her school as I had at mine), as well as assorted food items. Together, we learned to ignore it. We learned how to get gum out of each other’s hair without cutting it off. We learned that the fastest way to get an orange soda stain out of a white shirt was to scrub the heck out of it with a piece of paper towel and public washroom liquid soap. If it hadn’t been for the support that Jenny and I provided each other, I don’t know how either of us would have survived. 

Jenny’s anxiety and insecurity didn’t get as bad as mine did. I no longer speak to her, but she was always solid as a rock. She was, and is still, my inspiration in many ways. She always said what she thought, did what she wanted, stood up for what (and who) she believed in. She never gave a shit what anybody thought and she wasn’t afraid to tell them so. I mean... this is the girl who wold annually just shut up for an entire day -- she would not say a single word for 24 hours -- to support the LGBT community, to help fight for a voice for the voiceless. (NOTE: This vow of silence was pretty huge at the time. Jenny started this tradition when we were in high school. Extra props to her, and to the others I know who were brave enough to go through with it even once... because loudly supporting the LGBT community in a Catholic high school takes some serious guts.)

I wish I could say I had been as brave and strong as Jenny. I wasn’t. Sometimes I still wonder if I am. I let my shell take over my life, for the most part. I made friends, but I stuck to my little group and didn’t ever stray from them. I made my friends in the first semester of the 9th grade, and I didn’t go out of my way to even so much as try to make new ones after that. I had people, and I was comfortable. I still avoided going out, but it wasn’t quite so bad as before. I still got picked on at home though, because I come from a very small town. Things turned 180 degrees. School became my refuge, and home became a problem. 

Through all of this, I grew to think that I was the problem. That the mean girls were mean to me because I was too tall, too fat, too thin, too smart, not smart enough, too much of a goody-two-shoes, not pretty enough. I convinced myself that, as a person, I was wrong. I came to dislike myself. I didn’t like looking in a mirror. I started playing with makeup, not because it looked like fun, or because it was “time,” but because I thought I could use it to change the physical aspects of myself that were wrong. I stopped letting people take my picture, except for school photos. I didn’t want any evidence of such a “wrong” person to exist after the fact. I had decided that for the time being, I would have to go on being un-pretty, being imperfect. I would grow up someday and somehow turn pretty, and maybe then I could be perfect. I subscribed to the idea that I couldn’t be pretty and smart at the same time. I had to choose between the two. I guess I picked smart.

In university, I discovered that I am a charismatic person. I am a sweet and kind person, and people find me relatively easy to get along with. I made a number of friends, both in my dorm and in my classes really quickly and easily. I had a real, serious boyfriend for the first time in my life. It was at this point that I have since realized that I was uneasy about being alone. At any given moment, somebody was sending me some form of message. My old high school friends would send me MSN messages and email updates. My new friends and boyfriend would send texts, and sometimes MSN messages. Some message system somewhere was always going off. I felt loved, and popular for the first time in my life. However, when the hours arrived that my messaging systems went quiet, an old feeling crept up on me. Rejection. Sadness. Depression. Isolation. Anxiety. I felt like I was missing out on something. Like all of my friends were probably hanging out together somewhere, laughing and talking about how stupid I was or something.

Ridiculous, right?

Well, to me, that was exactly what was happening. I would spiral into a state of self-loathing. I would get angry with my friends for no reason. As quickly as I had made them, I lost quite a few friends this way. My accusatory tone would set my friends off, and they would become defensive. This would make me accuse them even more. I could not be in a room on my own without anyone contacting me and not end that same day in an argument with someone who had done absolutely nothing wrong, and who had done absolutely nothing to me, personally. I didn’t get why this was happening. I assumed that, in this instance, I was not the problem. I was wrong.

I needed to fix myself. I needed to get my head straightened out. It took me a long time to realize it, but I needed to figure out a way to be happy with myself, and it’s only recently that I can say honestly, and without blinking, that yeah, I like who I am. I spent a long time thinking back over situations, going over my days before I went to bed. Standing in front of a mirror, forcing myself to look at my own face. Picking out the things about myself that I like, instead of picking at the things I dislike. I started leaving my cell phone in my bag when I got home, instead of letting it be attached to my hand. I learned to appreciate quiet. I started reading more, just for the fun of it. I learned to look after myself -- mind, body, and spirit. 

Through learning to love myself, and learning to love being by myself, I have learned to care for other people more deeply. I am less judgemental with strangers. I am more welcoming. More approachable. I meet new people often, and I am getting good at making conversation. I’m always going to be a quiet person. Crowds and new people are always going to make me nervous. The trick is to not let the things that scare you run your life. I don’t know you, but you don’t scare me. I’m alone right now, as I write this, and I’m not freaking out. I’m fine. I like myself, and I like being alone. I’m happier and healthier for it, and my relationships with other people are happier and healthier as a result. 

The way I see it, if you aren’t okay being on your own, if you freak out when your phone isn’t going off, and nobody’s messaging you on facebook, you need to drop everything and figure out why. Once you figure out why you’re not happy with just yourself, you can set to fixing it. Your friends... your true friends, will support you and love you through it. Your relationships will only improve. You will learn that you are the most important person in your life. You have to love yourself the most of all, before you can learn to love anyone else.

So... to you, be happy. Be healthy. Be alone. Be better than the negative thoughts. Learn to love you, as you are. Be okay going out without makeup on. Be okay dancing with yourself.

Happily Yours,

- A.

P.S. I’m sorry this was so disgustingly long. Congratulations if you actually read the whole thing! Here’s a prize:

xoxo

Like a Wolf

Dear You,

It has recently occurred to me that I do a lot of things on my own. I spend a great deal of my time on my own.

It has also occurred to me that I don't mind it.

I took myself shopping recently. I didn't go with any of my girlfriends. I didn't make my mother tag along. I got the bus, and I went on my own. I spent about 3 hours wandering around the mall, had lunch on my own, and went back home. I think I prefer this to the "normal" shopping excursion of the twenty-something female. I didn't have to wait for any other person, or hang around in some store that I hate, for whatever reason. I went where I wanted to go, saw what I wanted or needed to see, and went back home.

I need to do this more often.

I spend a lot of time having meals on my own, hanging out in my bedroom, basically alone (because a cat can only afford you so much conversation). Even as I write this to you, now, I am sitting in my bedroom, music on, typing away. I like the peace and quiet, and I enjoy being able to process my own thoughts, and to type those thoughts out to you, without interruption, and without feeling like I'm being somehow rude to someone else.

Don't get me wrong, friends do have their place, and I do enjoy being social. I am certainly not a hermit, by any means, I have simply begun to notice how many of my days are spent in solitude, and then to notice again how little I seem to mind.

My life is quiet, at the moment, and that is a good thing for me. I'd be okay if it stayed this way.

You see, I've not only enjoyed a lot of time on my own in terms of friends and whatnot, I've also not "officially" had a boyfriend in nearly a solid year. Yes, I know. This is not a very typical thing to have done, but I'm okay with that, too. I've had dates. I've got boys who are my friends. No boyfriend. I think that's why I got the cat, to be honest. That isn't to say that if some real life Prince-Charming-Type swooped in on a winged horse and swept me off my feet, that I wouldn't welcome it/him with open arms... because I would. I mean... a guy who goes to the trouble of putting wings on a horse? Has to be a winner, right? I just have high standards. I don't have a boyfriend because I utterly refuse to settle for anything less than everything I want. I won't lower the bar to fit a person who is "really lovely except." Why should I do that to myself? If Mitch (name used for argument's sake) is really lovely, except for the fact that he doesn't seem to have "Thank You" as part of his vocabulary, then why would I settle for him? If Paul is really lovely except that he never listens to a word I say, why should I settle? And if Adam is really lovely except for the part where he's a huge liar, and even lies about lying to me, why in the HELL would I settle? Because I'm 26 and I'm single? Thank god this is the 21st century and not the 19th. I'm okay with being a 19th century old maid. The way I see it, settling for anything less than everything is basically telling myself that I don't deserve the perfect guy. It's telling myself, and my self-worth, that I'm not as valuable as my engaged and recently married girlfriends. They were worthy of their perfect guy... so why not me?

Yours in solitude,

- A.

Self-Depricating

Dear You,

I have been confronted by my own words. I am told, by a very reliable source, that I may be too hard on myself.

Now, I understand that as a young woman, I may or may not be societally conditioned to view myself differently than others view me -- this is part of the widespread body dysmorphic disorder that plagues my generation. I will always pick out subtle (or sometimes, in my own opinion, totally glaring) faults in myself, both physically and in personality, and often times others will have no idea what I am talking about. It simply comes with the territory of being a woman in this day and age, I think.

It is always easier to see the beauty in others than it is to recognize it in yourself.

Personally, I think of myself as the "girl-next-door" type. File me under "Cute." In my own head, I have more intelligence than I have looks. You may choose to disagree with me if you like, but I genuinely believe it. I have always been "The Smart Girl." It's just who I am, and I don't mind. It has developed as part of my persona.

With that said, I have also developed an aversion to being in pictures. If a picture is being taken of any of my friends, there is a 99% chance that I am the one taking the picture. My logic in this is that if I am taking the picture, I cannot possibly be in the picture. I try to hide behind other people, if I have to be in the picture. I rarely ask for copies of pictures I'm in. I simply don't want the evidence of how I look to be spread around. Facebook is horrible for that.

I mean... I don't think I'm particularly ugly, at all. Like I said, you could file me under "Cute." At 5 feet 7 inches, I'm certainly not a supermodel. I also know I have curves, and while I do like them, they sometimes make me feel like a bus, or sometimes even the broad side of a barn, when I stand next to my thinner friends.

With that said, I am also not one of these girls who has a problem with her curves, so she hides under oversized, black clothing. I usually really like my curves, and I know how to dress my body. I love the way vintage-inspired "fit and flare" dresses sit on my body. I like colour, and I'm not afraid to wear it. I'm aware that some men find my shape irresistibly sexy. I just often don't feel it. I feel pretty, most of the time. Maybe I just have more self-conscious moments that other women do. Maybe I'm totally normal. I don't know.

Either way, I need to make a conscious effort to not be quite so hard on myself. I need to figure out more little ways to love myself in a day. Up for working on this with me? Maybe we can make it a group project.

Lovingly Yours,

- A.